City of the Fallen (18 page)

“This might not work at all, you know,” she said.

The vampire shrugged. “We have nothing to lose.”

“Fair enough, let’s give it a try,” she said.

And for the first time in a very long time, it felt like maybe—just maybe—the world had a chance at survival.

That had been a first. Of all the firsts he’d been feeling around Belle, the wave of possessiveness that had hit him down in the lab had been especially powerful. That had been almost two hours ago, and he could still feel the pangs of jealousy surging through his veins. It didn’t make any sense, but the truth was that he didn’t want to share Belle with anybody. Especially since he didn’t truly know if he had enemies inside the compound, vampires plotting his demise behind his back. The kind of enemies who would be happy to hurt Belle just to get to him.

When she came back into his room, he tried to push down the storm raging inside him.

“How did it go in the lab?”

Her eyes had a spark he hadn’t seen before. “I think I might actually be able to help,” she said. “It looks like—”

He shot to her side before she had time to react, the blur of movements cutting through the room. The truth was that he didn’t want to talk right now. He just wanted to take her. Hard, rough, forceful. Right at that moment.

His right hand slid to her neck, fingers encircling her throat gently. Belle gasped but didn’t resist him, her heartbeat speeding up to a delirious run. He pushed her against the wall without letting go of her throat. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wanted to make sure she understood who was in charge. His eyes locked on hers, waiting to see if she’d surrender. When she didn’t respond, his fingers tightened just a bit and she moaned.

As soon as the sound escaped her throat, his predatory instinct took over, blinding everything else. His body pressed into hers, crushing her tiny figure against the wall behind her. Any hope of softness and control was now gone. He was just an animal trying to mark his prey. He mouth took hers with urgency, his fangs out and trailing her lower lip before his tongue darted into her mouth.

Belle moaned and melted against him, inflaming his need to an almost unbearable point.

His free hand moved behind her, sliding across
 
her
 
ass to
 
cup a
 
cheek. Then he pressed her lower body against his so she could feel his length. The other hand remained where it was around her neck, holding her captive. He wasn’t in the mood for foreplay tonight. No gentleness or softness or moving slowly. He wanted—needed—to stake a claim.

His right hand slid from her ass towards the front of her pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them down in a quick movement. And then his pants were down too and he was back pushing against her sex, soft and wet and ready.

Belle looked enthralled, her features heavy with desire. She was panting hard and fast and a cry of almost painful pleasure escaped her throat when he pushed against her.

“You’re mine, Belle,” he growled, and the words came out deep and weighty.

He could feel his own eyes burning a trail down her throat and then back to her face. There was no fear in Belle’s eyes and that only served to drive him even more insane with desire.

He lowered his head down so his lips were almost touching hers. “Tell me you’re mine, Belle.”

And almost as if he was trying to elicit a response out of her, he adjusted his body so his cock was now at the entrance of her sex. It took every single ounce of willpower he had left not to ram into her right then and there. Instead, he savored the deep moan that escaped her throat. “Tell me,” he ordered.

Belle closed her eyes, her body trembling against his. “Yes, yes, I’m yours.”

He moved his mouth away from hers and towards his own wrists. When his fangs pierced his skin and the blood started to flow out, Belle’s eyes widened. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was mad with need.

He moved his bleeding wrist moved closer to her mouth and Belle’s body tensed up in response.

“Marcus, no, what are you doing?” She put her hands up against his chest and tried to push him away but it was too late now, and there was no turning back. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Drink,” he said, and the words were a mix of order and desire-laden plea.

“No!” He could hear the panic in her voice, but when she tried to shake her head, his fingers tightened on her throat.

He moved his wrist away and pushed against her again, crushing her chest. His hips pushed up and he slid inside her just barely. She was slick and welcoming, her body ready for the invasion. Every inch of his body was throbbing and so was hers.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” he said, his eyes melting into hers. “You have my word.”

And that seemed to work, because Belle’s body stopped resisting. He pushed into her a little more and his groan matched hers at the slow torture of the movement. Then he moved his wrist up against her lips again.

“Drink,” he ordered softly, and she did.

The second her mouth touched the puncture wounds, he gasped. It felt like a million lightning bolts hitting his body all at once. Pain and urgency and unbelievable ecstasy. His whole body exploded into waves of pleasure and he rammed into her with a grunt. Belle let out a moan and the pressure of her lips on his wrist increased. He let go of her throat and slid a hand down, grabbing her up and off the floor, getting her legs wrapped around him.

Every time he rammed into her, Belle drank harder and moaned louder. The pleasure in her face was exquisite. He could see the orgasm building in her features, grabbing her and twisting her as his own body neared the climax.

And then her tongue darted out and licked the wounds while she continued sucking. That undid him. His whole body bucked, release tearing through him in an almost agonizing wave. Pain and bliss all rolled into one. The most basic, most organic of emotions taking away the last bit of coherence from his mind.

He rammed into her one more time and Belle’s body exploded into orgasm. She let go of his wrist, her body arching against his. He held her tight as she rode her own climax, breathless and vibrating in his arms. As she slowly came back to reality, her ragged, harsh breath matched his.

Even if Belle didn’t know it yet, they had both just crossed the point of no return.
   

~*~

Fire. Surging through her veins as if trying to devour her from the inside. Beautiful cold fire lapping through her chest in a hypnotic dance. Even though her body felt spent, she could feel the heat burning its way down her body and into her cells. Vampire blood. It felt wrong and oh-so-right at the same time.

It was the ultimate betrayal, wasn’t it? Drinking the blood of the monsters. But the second she had tasted it, something in her had snapped. Nothing she had ever experienced had felt like his blood did. It tasted like honeyed liquor going down her throat and it had ignited a flame inside her, a pang of pleasure that made her want more. Combined with the feeling of him inside her, it became beckoning, like the call of a wild beast.

She adjusted her body against his, trying to find the perfect spot to fall asleep in his arms.
 

“What’s on your mind, Belle?”

You are
, she wanted to say.
Always, all the time. You.

“The blood,” she said instead, which was also true. “It felt… empowering.”

“What did you expect it to be like?”

“I never asked myself that. I never thought I would…” She took a deep breath. “I guess I imagined it would be… poisonous.”

Marcus’ face was unreadable.

“No, it has healing properties. And as you saw, sharing it is also highly sexual, which is why we don’t usually do it.”

The fire moved up towards her face, burning and pulsing in her ears. “Then why…”

“Because it felt right,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin so he could tilt her head slightly back and look into her eyes. “Didn’t it?”

Yes, it had.
More right than anything she had ever experienced in her life. It had felt like a mix of surrendering and claiming at the same time. As if drinking his blood was making him a part of her, something that could never be erased.

She wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him it had meant nothing. But she didn’t have the strength to pretend. Not when his eyes sparkled like silver and the fire of his skin was still against hers.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He kissed her, a hint of a wicked smile on his lips. “Of course it did.”

Arrogant
.

She could feel sleep washing over her, slowly inching its way through her body. It was the kind of soothing sleep she hadn’t had for years. The sleep of the satisfied—of the ones who felt safe and content and fulfilled.

And then,
halfway between sleep and wakefulness, his body moved against hers. Her skin fluttered and came alive, and she opened her eyes just a bit, hoping to catch sight of him without giving herself away.

The glitter of the moon was dancing on his face, twisting and turning into beautiful shadows over his skin. There was a royal dignity to his presence, a quiet touch of distinction that seemed to ooze out of him even now, as he remained still on the bed next to her. She could deny it all she wanted, but everything he’d done since meeting her had been honorable. All her effort in trying to find the monster hiding in the shadows had been in vain and she was suddenly exhausted from searching for the dark side of him—a side that now she believed maybe didn’t exist.

A wave of understanding hit her and hit her hard. And before she could stop it, a thought formed in her mind.
I can’t kill him
.

Even if she could find a way to do it, she didn’t want to.

Her thoughts flew to the lab and the many surgical tools there. At some point during the night, she’d thought about taking a scalpel back to the room and hiding it in one of her drawers. Then she could have jumped out of the bed and sliced his throat open. She wasn’t sure it would kill him and that was a clear sign that her plan had been faulty from the beginning. But none of that mattered because the second she thought about hurting him, a wave of nausea hit her with the intensity of an earthquake. Her breath got caught in her throat and she had to remind herself to try and breathe over the panic that overtook her.

Not only was she sure that she could never hurt him, but she was also suddenly convinced that she would fight anybody who tried.
Tell me you’re mine
. Marcus’ words echoed in her chest with a thundering boom. Because at that very moment, as his body intertwined with hers on the softness of the blankets, she knew it.

For better or worse, she was his.